Small Blessings
by SmallBlessings
Summary: It all starts with that blessed apple. Well, ok, so, that's not exactly right. In truth, It all starts a bit earlier, with His divine finger turning on the invisible lightswitch of the metaphorical basement of the universe, but the part that really concerns Vegeta starts with the apple. (A Good Omens AU)


_**Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo**_

_If I can not bend the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell_

* * *

It all starts with that blessed apple.

Well, ok, so, that's not exactly right. In truth, It(1) all starts a bit earlier, with His divine finger turning on the invisible lightswitch of the metaphorical basement of the universe, but the part that really concerns Vegeta starts with the apple.

He didn't think too much at the beginning. He was perfectly fine with enjoying his (almost) perfectly godly powers, passing the newly invented Time by sneering at the very first perfect day (too bright), by squinting at the very first perfect night (too gloomy), and dismissing the very first living creatures He made as quick practice for the Real thing, which of course came parading in last, like the providential Made-in-his-image cherry on top of the perfect heavenly cake. He was made knowing what he was, knowing what he was meant to do, and enjoying all of it tremendously, in all his obvious perfection.

Well, theoretically and theologically, he did.

Because that's, really, when it all starts. When the Angel Vegetael blinks up to the fresh brand new appletree one day (the 9th one, in fact), and realizes he's bored out of his perfect mind.

* * *

"Now look what you've done."

He doesn't try to apologize, because it's not like he feels particularly sorry in the first place. He lazily flaps his wings to peek down at the brand new fiery pit of eternal nightmare swallowing their formerly perfect Eden below.

It's a particularly rewarding sight.

"I'm looking. I didn't even know there was something down there. Did you?"

His companion rubs at her face with what he realizes is aggravation (it's the first time someone is aggravated with him, that someone actually reacts to him, notices him among the sea of perfectly boring cherubs. He might grow addicted to it.). "This is so bad. And so stupid. We're barely past the first week and one of us manages to screw it all up for humanity. And I expected that to be Goku."

"It's not like she had to eat the blessed thing,", he says as he circumvents another screaming and flailing colleague falling from the perfectly blue sky right into his nice little pit. She dodges, too, without really paying attention.

"Are you arguing you were trying to test her loyalty? Because I find that hard to believe. You've been rebellious since day One."

"Look, none of you can possibly know how good those Humans really are till you put a little bit of hardship their way. A little challenge."

"They're not supposed to be challenged, Vegetael, they're supposed to name things, skip around and look nice." She sighs as she passes her fingers through her short hair- which immediately falls back around her face in a perfect halo of angelic blue locks, to her visible delight(2). "They're not supposed to have free-will. None of us are. You're really the only one complaining."

He opens his mouth, ready to throw a scathing remark back at her, but decides otherwise. He instead frowns at his accomplices trying to crawl out of the burning hole, trying to grasp at smoldering vegetation, their wings already turning black with the volcanic heat and sooth bellowing from it. Get back in there, he thinks. Stand by your choices. Have some pride. "What's so wrong about some free-will?"

She doesn't answer, and when he gets bored of watching seraphs falling like big white screaming snowflakes around them, he turns his head to look at her. She's just like any other angel- gorgeous, bright (too bright, and he realizes his eyes are changing, hurting, realizes the pit's darkness is getting more and more attractive every passing second near her holy body of light), but her perfect brows on her perfect face are frowning. He's never seen another angel frown before. "I'm not...sure. I'll have to think about it."

"You're not supposed to think about it,", he points out. He's never heard of another angel thinking, either. And, he realizes, everyone else not falling is at least trying to be helpful down there- she's the only one who's lazy and chatty enough to come chastise him.

She must notice his questioning eyes, because her frown deepens.

"Another pair of wings flapping uselessly around isn't gonna stop the Fall of Man, is it?", she sniffs. "I already did my good deed of the day anyway, so I'm good."

That's when he notices the glaring absence of her flaming sword, and a pan of her crispy white toga- and maybe a missing pair of sturdy, angelic sandals hanging from her floating feet.

He stares.

"They would have figured out how to make fire at some point. Eventually. Probably."

He stares harder.

"The poor thing is pregnant already, you know."

He stares harder.

"...You owe me a new pair of sandals."

"Free-will, huh?", he smirks. She glares at him before going back to her curls- and to the widening, dangerously crumbling pit. The world is shaking with it. He's shaking too.

"You know, He won't leave you alone after this. I feel sorry for the poor sod who's gonna have to watch over you till the ends of Time." Just as she says this, she drops the lock she was twirling and throws him the anxious look of someone who just started wondering if they signed something they really shouldn't have(3). "Wait. You don't think He'll really mind, about the humans and the fire. Do you?"

Her question is punctuated by the growling pit suddenly collapsing in on itself, swallowing the rest of the pleading fallen angels like a monstrous starving beast- and Vegetael can finally feel the heat of Hell exploding and reaching him from down below, embers and all. He expected pain, but instead it slowly engulfs his whole body- warming his feet, his fingers, his face- lapping at his yellowing eyes, burning his hair and wings sooth black, making him feel like he never felt before, making him feel like his decisions matter, making him feel like he's master of his own destiny- making him feel, period.

He turns to her, his mouth stretching into his very first not-so-angelic smile as her mouth turns down in a not-so-perfect grimace.

"Oh, Bulmael, I really, really hope He'll mind the fire."

* * *

(1) It, the big It, uppercase I, dark and light and atoms and stars and time and Life and Him and people and ants and back to atoms to start all over again, the big Everything that makes you a bit ill when you start really thinking about It.

(2) That should have been his first red flag. No angel was ever as vain as she is. Probably no demon, either.

(3) Vegeta would grow to know and appreciate this particular look very well in the future, especially around the 17th century, when someone(4) has the great idea to invent floating interest rates in very tiny barely legible writing at the bottom of the contract the banker assures you are boring lawyering terms while he serves you another scotch.

(4) That someone was him.


End file.
